Page 1 of Heron's Flame

Prologue Heron

One year earlier—

Rolling to a stop in the open parking space, I shut down the engine on my bike, lifting off the seat to secure my helmet in my saddlebags before walking toward the entrance to The Roost, my new clubhouse. Heat from the day had warmed my leathers hours earlier, and after several grueling hours in the saddle, I needed a cold drink. And if everything went right, I wouldn’t be spending the evening alone.

My gaze scanned the property, noticing the security. The buildings appeared to have a similar structure as any other in Nevada unless you counted the tall fencing around the perimeter topped with razor wire. If that wasn’t enough of a deterrent, the men wearing black cuts and heavily armed ensured no one crossed the gate without permission. Add in all the Harleys, and it sent out the message loud and clear: Fuck around and find out.

My kind of place,I think to myself. No bullshit. No apologies.

A grin twitched my lips. I had the good fortune to be joining this brotherhood of outlaws. Or, at the least, a chance to patch in.

Thanks to some military friendships my pops had made years ago when he served, my name had passed through the proper channels until it landed with Patriot, the Road Captain of the Royal Bastards MC in Tonopah, NV. When he learned what I needed and who my father was, he connected me with Crow, the current president of the Devil’s Murder MC.

After my initial meeting with Crow the previous afternoon, I felt something shift inside me, an invisible thread pulling tight to connect me to my brethren.Crows.Just like me.

Fuck. I didn’t think I’d ever find anyone who understood my bond with the black-feathered bird. That loneliness and self-doubt took a toll. I searched for years to find anyone who experienced what I did or could provide insight into the crazy shit that happened to me since I was a little kid.

As a child, I discovered early on that I was different from my parents. They didn’t speak to the crows as I did. They didn’t understand why the sky would fill with a flock of onyx wings that followed me wherever I went or why that inky blot above my head provided a constant shadow and warning to any predator who dared to cross my path. I felt the crows’ emotions and connected on a spiritual level, sharing their feelings to the point that my own were magnified, often to an extreme. For a teenager, that shit is already on full tilt with hormones. Mine were even more potent, sometimes to the point that I couldn’t control them.

The result? I became a cocky son of a bitch who could easily read the emotions of others, and I often used that knowledge to my advantage or to distract people enough to get what I wanted. Or I just ended up brawling on a bar floor or parking lot. My fists tried to solve problems, but my mouth often started them.

Fuck if I knew why I always seemed to attract the wrong kind of attention. It had been that way since I was fifteen and grew taller than most men I knew. I was stronger, too.

Back then, you couldn’t tell me shit. I had to learn it all on my own. Only one man ever had the guts, grit, or determination to put up with my shit. The one who raised me and gave me his name, even if I didn’t share his DNA.

My pops sat me down shortly after my fifteenth birthday and told me the truth. I’d been adopted. Funny, I wasn’t shocked. It didn’t even piss me off. The crows had always known. Their acceptance helped secure mine. But that also meant I had a fuck ton of questions and not enough answers.

I’d been searching for the truth ever since.

Glenn, the man who raised me and would always be the only one I considered a father, spent years trying to find my birth parents. It never made sense why we couldn’t locate them or why every lead turned up nothing but disappointment. When he died, I lost fucking everything.

Just thinking about it caused my neck to tense and my fists to clench. My jaw clicked as I snapped my mouth shut, almost grinding my teeth. Getting pissed or agitated wouldn’t solve shit. A lesson I still had a hard time accepting on occasion.

Right now, I had to focus.

I came to this club because I needed to learn more about the bond I shared with the crows and how I became a crow-bonded male. It wasn’t like I could go to the local library to study the subject or search on the internet to find the origins of my species. Shifters and soul-bonds weren’t common. I needed information, and Crow promised to provide it.

I just had to agree to prospect for their club. One year. An agreement that would change my life. There were secrets he couldn’t reveal to a man who wasn’t a patched member. I didn’t hesitate to accept.

Now, I stood on the precipice of change, ready to embrace whatever fate led me to this moment. I still had so many questions. Would I locate my birth parents? Every attempt to find information about them before now had failed since I began that search at fifteen. Why did they give me up? Did Crow and his club know of other groups like this one? Were there communities out there that existed apart from society so they could thrive without human interference?

It made sense. But I wasn’t going to learn much until I gained the club’s trust. I had to prove my loyalty, and in return, Crow pledged to help in any way he could.

I wasn’t left with many choices after my adoptive parents died. Rebellion, loss, and anger brought me to this moment. Ihad been a ghost ship floating without an anchor. A man without a family or a home. I never felt so fucking alone in my life. Even in a crowded room or with the girl I thought I’d someday marry. That gaping hole and the pain it left behind tore right through me. I lived in fucking darkness for so long that I wondered if I would ever climb out of the pit I had sunk into. Patriot’s call dared to give me hope, but that was a dangerous thing.

Still, I was here. I showed up and chose to give this a chance.

It was in fate’s hands now.

The door opened in front of me as I reached the entrance to The Roost, and I stopped, sucking in a breath as I stared at the young woman in front of me. I’d seen her face a hundred times before now but never met her until this moment. A stranger from my dreams, I glimpsed her nearly every night for the last six months.

She was more stunning in person than I could have imagined.

Ruby red lips. High cheekbones dusted with a light dash of pink. Eyes so fucking blue they reminded me of a cloudless summer sky. Long blonde hair braided on both sides of her head, tied at the end with black leather strips rested over her full breasts. Tanned, bare legs that I couldn’t wait to glide my fingertips across to see if they felt as smooth as they looked briefly snared my attention. And that megawatt smile. Words didn’t do it justice.

Fucking hell. She was goddamn gorgeous. Curvy. Sexy. And, wait, I could sense more. Surprise. Attraction. Curiosity.

Oh, fuck yeah.

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